


To Hell and Back Again

by The_Silver_Souled_Hunter



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter/pseuds/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter
Summary: After the events of the previous night, Naib attempts to find his way back to the manor in one piece.  Along the way he encounters hunters who wish to tear him apart, and a few who want to aid him.A follow up to The Priest and the Mercenary
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	1. Black and White

It had been easier than expected to escape the Crow’s nest. Naib had spent a good while pretending to be asleep before Eileen finally laid down. It had been rough keeping up the façade, trying not to actually fall asleep or flinch under her steely gaze. Not to mention avoiding any loose looking floorboards as he snuck out of that church basement. At least now he could focus on returning home…if one could call it that.

The mercenary wandered through the narrow streets of what he now knew as Yharnam. Eileen had said that this was the Cathedral Ward, where the beasts weren’t as numerous thanks to the incense. None of the church doctors or giants had noticed him, bringing some form of ease. The playing field was sure to be nearby, then he could return to the manor through the exit gate or dungeon. The alternative was letting a hunter find him, and that would be less than ideal considering he’d broken the rules.

“Would you look at that, brother. A runaway survivor, just as the Ripper said.” Naib froze in his tracks. He recognized that voice, calm and smooth as cream, yet with an underlying annoyance. The mercenary glanced up to find the White half of Wu Chang perched on a ledge above him. He stared back with a deep frown, almost as if he were judging him. Naib began backing away, only for the hunter to dissolve away into the umbrella, which flew a mere few feet behind him. A thick goop seeped out and materialized as the Black Guard.

“Indeed, brother. He’s caused quite a bit of trouble already,” Black said. “Perhaps he will make a good example of what happens when survivors violate the rules.” Naib barely had time to react before Wu Chang thrust the umbrella at him as if it were a spear. The sharp tip grazed his side, drawing a pained yelp. He rushed deeper into the city, not daring to look behind him. Adrenaline overtook pain for the moment, but it would catch up, as would the hunter.

The mercenary ran a good distance before his wound began to sting. A bit of white fluff was seeping out of an old war injury, though he managed to press it back in as best he could. When he was certain he’d fled a good distance, Naib slumped against a nearby lamp post. It wouldn’t be a good idea to rest for long, but he couldn’t help snuggling into the warmth with a content hum. Then he realized lamp posts weren’t supposed to be warm.

Naib jerked his head up, expecting to find Jack ready to snatch him up. But it wasn’t Jack, nor was it Eileen or Father Gascoigne. It was a young man, dressed in a hunter’s attire along with a mask and cap that obscured most of his face. He didn’t seem dangerous, but Naib found himself frozen once again, though he at least managed to find his voice. “Wh-who are you?” he asked. The man merely tilted his head.

“I’m a hunter. My job is to cull the beasts around…” Damien was abruptly cut off by the newcomer whimpering and cowering away from him. “Don’t worry, I don’t hunt people! Not the sane ones anyway.” He said. Come to think of it, this newcomer didn’t look like anyone from Yharnam or the surrounding lands. Between the button-like eyes, stitches, and ragged clothes, he almost looked like a living doll. Damien knelt down until he was almost eye-level with him. “I swear I won’t hurt you. My name is Damien, what’s yours?” he asked. The stranger stared at him with wide eyes, but took a deep breath.

“I…It’s Naib Subedar. I’m a mercenary-!” he barely got his introduction out before being sharply jabbed in the back. Naib screamed and stumbled past Damien in a blind panic. He scrambled to activate his elbow pads, only to trip over his own feet and fall against the side of a building.

“There you are!,” Black shouted, striding towards Naib with a sadistic grin. “No more running, little mercenary. Time to take you home.” Wu Chang readied his umbrella for another strike, only for Damien to lunge and strike him with an odd, saw-like weapon. Wu hissed and leapt back, murder in his eyes. “Who the hell do you think you are, interrupting our hunt like this?!” he demanded.

“What hunt? Naib isn’t a beast as far as I can tell!” Damien said. The man standing before him didn’t appear to be human considering the odd black and white coloration of his face, but he’d already dealt with a number of specters and undead fiends. The apparition smirked and tapped the tip of his umbrella.

“Not at the moment, at least. Our main concern is that he escaped the manor right under another hunter’s nose. I’d suggest you don’t get in our way.” He said. He nimbly dodged another swing of the saw cleaver and rang an iron bell. The sound echoed within Damien’s mind in the same manner as a sinister bell. Before he could react, a sharp ring reverberated in his skull. He fell back with a scream, which turned into a sharp gasp as the tip of the umbrella pierced his abdomen.

“What’s the matter? Tired already, little nuisance?” Black asked. He chuckled and strode towards Naib. The mercenary tried to press himself further against the wall, holding his stuffing in. “Poor little mercenary. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to stitch you back together once we’re done tearing you apart!” Black exclaimed.

Damien stood with a grunt and jabbed a blood vial into his thigh. Just as the apparition rose his weapon, he fired his pistol. The bullet missed his shoulder by an inch, but it at least caught his attention. The hunter rushed in and struck him with his cleaver again. The apparition cried out and thrust the umbrella at him, but he retaliated with another bullet. He stumbled back with a gasp and clutched his chest.

“You miserable lout! When we’re through with you-!” Black fell silent mid-sentence, almost as if he were in a trance. Damien held his ground, waiting for the apparition to strike again. Instead he sighed and stepped away. “Very well, brother.” He murmured. He melted away into the umbrella, returning as the White Guard.

“Killing you is proving to be a waste of energy. We will let you off with a warning, but that mercenary is coming with us,” White said. Damien glared at him and stepped closer to Naib. Wu Chang sighed and rested his umbrella over his shoulder. “Fine, but don’t be surprised when your compassion places you in an undesirable situation.” With those words and a flip of his hair, the hunter walked off into the night.

Damien gave a sigh of relief and turned his attention to Naib. He was hunched over and shivering, trying in vain to cover up his injuries. “Oh god. Naib, you’re…bleeding?” he said. White fuzz was spilling out of his cuts, almost like a stuffed toy. The healing blood would likely be ineffective in this situation. As he knelt down, he gently took Naib’s hands and pulled them from his face. His cheeks were soaked with tears, yet he tried to shrink back when Damien wiped them away with his glove.

“It’s going to be alright. You think you can walk?” he asked. Naib shook his head and curled in on himself more. With utmost care, Damien lifted him into his arms, only for the mercenary to squirm in protest. “Relax, I know a safe place where I can patch you up. Just be still for now.” He crooned.

Naib was left with little choice but to let the hunter do as he pleased. Damien was doing a fairly good job at keeping his filling in, but he was reminded of the way Jack occasionally carried him to a rocket chair…or the exit if he was feeling merciful. Still, he wasn’t in the position to complain. He sighed and rested his head against Damien’s shoulder. He silently hoped that the Ripper or whoever else was about would not find them on the way.


	2. Gentle Stitching

The walk was not as perilous as Naib initially feared. Damien must have been used to sneaking past foes, considering how he easily kept from attracting the attention of any church doctors. This didn’t stop him from occasionally holding his breath or whipping his head around just in case. Thankfully his heartbeat didn’t spike at any point, indicating that there weren’t any other hunters nearby.

The trek finally lead them to a large, surprisingly modest chapel. The smell of incense was overpowering, causing Naib to cough a little. It didn’t seem like the ideal place to treat one’s wounds, but it was better than remaining out in the open. Yet Damien didn’t place him down, walking towards a small hanging lantern surrounded by pale, emaciated creatures.

The mercenary grimaced and shrunk back as the creatures reached for him. Damien chuckled as he reached a hand out, carefully kneeling and positioning Naib’s legs on his knee. They grabbed onto his fingers, eagerly snuggling into the warmth of his glove. At that moment, drowsiness hit Naib like a tidal wave. He attempted to question Damien, but he fell into darkness before he could utter a word.

Only moments later Naib woke up with a gasp. He was still being held by Damien, who appeared to be blinking the sleep from his eyes. He looked around to find that they were in a sprawling garden of trees, tombstones, and white flowers. Looming above them on a small hill was a foreboding building, almost similar in appearance to the chapel.

“Welcome to the Hunter’s Dream, a simple little dimension I call home. I brought you here so I could eat you,” Damien said, chuckling as Naib yelped and attempted to squirm out of his arms. “I’m kidding! You’re perfectly safe here, as long as you stay away from Gehrman while he’s napping.” He briskly walked up the path and up the stairs, stepping into a cozy workshop. Books were piled in every available space along the wall, and Naib could see a workbench and altar placed at the far end of the room.

Damien placed the mercenary down in front of the altar before opening a cabinet and pulling out a sewing kit. He was far from an expert at sewing, but he was used to mending his clothes from time to time. Surely a doll person couldn’t be too difficult, right? He shook his head and returned to Naib with a needle and a spool of thread.

“Now, I’m not entirely sure how your…anatomy works, but I can assure you I know what I’m doing. Just let me know if it hurts, alright?” he said. Naib fought back a shudder, but remained calm. Damien ultimately didn’t mean him any harm as far as he knew. The hunter carefully pulled off his cloak, revealing long brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail and stitches along the corners of his mouth.

Damien chose not to comment on the stitches, setting to work on the gashes. Naib barely made any noise, only giving a few uncomfortable squirms as his stuffing was pressed back into his body and his flesh sewn back together. He was used to it, at least. War and the manor had made him used to pain, as well as being stitched up by hunters or other survivors after particularly rough matches. Thankfully the experience was over before he knew it, the last stitch being set in place.

“There we are! That wasn’t so bad!,” Damien exclaimed. “While we’re here, would you mind telling me about this manor and the hunters that spirit mentioned?” Naib rubbed his shoulder and grimaced, not sure where to begin. It didn’t help that Damien gave him a patient, yet expecting glance as he repaired his cloak. He sighed and lowered his gaze to his boots.

“That spirit was Wu Chang, two souls bound to one umbrella,” he replied. “At the manor we play a game where four survivors work to escape a hunter. If we get captured, we risk being fired off back to the manor. Supposedly there’s a treasure as the prize, but I’ve seen no indication that it even exists.” Damien gave him an incredulous look.

“So Wu Chang and the other hunters just hunt you for sport? There’s nothing you can do about it?” he asked. The mercenary almost flinched at his tone, yet took a deep breath and urged himself to continue.

“There’s rules that we survivors have to follow, and at the end of the day we brought it upon ourselves. I joined because of how restless I’ve been since leaving the military, hoping to find some sort of thrill,” Naib said. “I escaped by accident, then got picked up by Father Gascoigne and Eileen the Crow. I didn’t want to put them in danger.”

The information was a lot for Damien to digest. He was trapped in the hunt in his own way, but at least had relative freedom in exploring Yharnam, the frontier, Nightmare, and beyond. He couldn’t imagine being forced to be hunted down and sliced up, perhaps daily. He sighed and affectionately ruffled Naib’s hair, taking note of how it looked and felt similar to yarn.

“Well, if you need to get back that badly, I can help you. But I’m going to try and talk to Eileen first. Just to give you a little space.” He said. Naib resisted the urge to lean into Damien’s touch. When was the last time he’d felt an affectionate touch? Occasionally there was a pat on the back from a fellow survivor, but this was different somehow. He hugged his cloak close as the hunter handed it back to him.

“If you insist. Just be careful, Wu Chang and Jack the Ripper could still be out there.” He warned. Damien’s spirits immediately fell at the mention of the second hunter. Surely that had to be some twisted joke!

“You don’t mean _that_ Jack the Ripper, do you?” Damien asked. Naib turned his head away and nodded, sending a chill down the hunter’s spine. This was…less than ideal, but a mysterious serial killer couldn’t possibly be worse than a hulking Cleric Beast, right? With that assurance, he forced a grin and patted the mercenary on the head. “Just make yourself at home, alright? I’ll be back before you know it.” He assured before standing and turning to the door.

Naib watched Damien walk out of the workshop, leaving him huddled on the floor. He slipped on his cloak, the warmth providing some form of comfort. If what Damien said about this supposed Dream was true, it couldn’t hurt to explore the place, right? Already he was itching to run around a bit. Yet at the same time he needed to rest, let the events of the evening settle in. Naib laid back against the altar as some of the creatures from the lamp emerged and rested against him. He could afford a few minutes…


	3. The Ripper's Calling

With Naib safely in the Dream, Damien was able to head out into Yharnam without fear of the hunters finding him. There was a thought itching at his mind that the mercenary may get bored or kicked out by Gehrman, but it was easy to ignore. He knew Eileen well enough to memorize her favorite resting spots. Still, it would be the best for him to hurry up before something hostile found him.

There was a chill in the air as a mist settled in the city. The hunter shivered and pulled in his coat a little tighter. He’d yet to see many beasts that night, but now he had more to worry about. In this fog a killer could easily sneak up behind him.

“Lovely night for a walk, isn’t it? Do you mind if I join you?” a soft voice asked. Damien swiftly twirled around and came face-to-face with a blank white mask. The man was tall and lanky, his clothes slightly tattered. He was humming somewhat cheerfully, putting Damien at relative ease. He looked a little frightening, but the same could be said about Eileen. It was wrong to judge a book by its cover, wasn’t it?

“I suppose there’s safety in numbers. I hear the Ripper is on the prowl around here.” He said. He continued along, the stranger following close behind. The mist almost seemed to grow denser, refusing to part to the light of his small lantern. Dread churned in the pit of Damien’s stomach, telling him he’d made a mistake. The humming had gone from cheerful to almost amused.

“Oh, so you’ve heard of the murders, perhaps how that monster was never caught?” he asked. A hand rested on Damien’s shoulder and squeezed, doing nothing to ease him. “Where are my manners? You may call me Jack, if you wish.” He said. The hunter’s heart skipped a beat, but surely that had to be a coincidence or a jest! He wanted to reply, but his tongue may as well have been made of rubber.

“I can’t bear the thought of that beast lurking in these cursed streets! Stalking and mutilating helpless innocents, letting their blood soak the ground...but has he truly returned?” Jack murmured. He doesn’t sound frightened at all, Damien thought to himself. As he stopped and turned to his acquaintance, he caught moonlight glistening on metal blades hidden behind his back. They seemed rather inefficient for killing beasts…

“I suppose we may never truly know. But that’s enough about my past…” As Jack spoke those last few words, realization hit Damien like a bullet. Jack’s knowing chuckle seemed to confirm his suspicions. He bolted out of the alley, but the Ripper’s laughter seemed to follow him. He needed to find someone; Eileen, Gascoigne, anyone who could help him!

A strong breeze followed by a sharp pain in his back knocked the wind out of the hunter. Damien gave a wail of pain as he collapsed, blood seeping from the claw marks running across the back of his coat. He tried to push himself up, but Jack grabbed and rolled him over. New pain ignited as his back was roughly pressed against the cobblestones. The Ripper’s claw-like blades pressed against his chest, digging into his garb. Damien hissed and reached for his pistol, only for the sharpened tip of an umbrella to rest against his throat.

“Didn’t expect to meet you again so soon. Damien, was it?” Wu Chang asked. Damien shuddered, completely at the mercy of two killers. One wrong move and he could easily be torn to shreds. Yet he remained defiant, knowing he’d already been through far worse.

“What could you possibly want with me? I’m no woman of the night.” He hissed. He gasped as the Ripper laughed and pressed his blades through the cloth and against his soft flesh. Already he could imagine them mercilessly slicing open his stomach…

“Don’t you play dumb with us, hunter. You attacked my friend here and ran off with the mercenary.” Jack said. He leaned in closer and caressed Damien’s face with a cold hand, humming contentedly at his shivers. “It really shouldn’t be that difficult. Tell us where Naib is, or else we’ll be cutting you up and sewing the pieces back together.” He crooned.

“Neither of those will be happening.” Damien would have perked up if it weren’t for the tip on his neck. Jack and Wu Chang turned to the beaked woman standing a few feet away. Eileen had found him in the nick of time. The Ripper snickered and dug his blades in deeper, blood beginning to seep up from the young hunter’s clothes. Damien’s pained whimpers were simply melodious, but he had a new threat to worry about.

“And here I was thinking I’d never meet the famed Hunter of Hunters. Word of your exploits has traveled wide, you know,” He said. “Not my usual prey, but you would be an interesting catch.” With both of his captors distracted, Damien grabbed his pistol and fired at Wu Chang. His cry of pain and rage snatched Jack’s attention, giving Eileen the opportunity to charge in and strike him. As the Ripper stumbled back, she grasped Damien’s hand and yanked him to his feet.

White swiftly melted away into the umbrella, Black emerging with a glare that could melt steel. He lunged and jabbed his umbrella at Eileen, but she sidestepped it with ease. Swinging her blades in an arc, she sliced him with expert precision. Black snarled and rang his bell, only for her to roll away from the soundwave. Eileen leapt around him and continued slashing away in a dance-like maneuver.

Meanwhile Damien jabbed a blood vial into his thigh as he turned to face the Ripper. He ducked as Jack swiped at him, the metal claws missing his face by an inch. He fired again, the quicksilver bullet grazing Jack’s shoulder. The hunter cried out and sliced Damien’s arm. He yelped and took aim, only to find that he’d vanished. Holding his ground, he could faintly hear footsteps nearby.

When the steps came to a halt behind him, Damien swung his saw cleaver in a wide arc. The blade’s jagged teeth tore at Jack, causing him to instantly materialize. He stumbled away with an infuriated snarl. Holding his hand over the bleeding gash, he psyched himself up for another strike. He didn't get a chance before White practically collapsed onto him, clothes ripped and stained red.

“I’m afraid this is too much for us. We need to fall back!” he cried. Jack hissed indignantly, but gave a reluctant nod and staggered to his feet. As Wu Chang pulled him away, he threw a spiteful glare towards the hunters before running off into the mist.

Eileen watched the pair of monsters disappear into the fog. She gave a sigh of relief as she connected her Blades of Mercy into one. The last thing she needed was a feared killer in Yharnam, much less one who was aware of who she was. This would call for a few precautions, but she didn’t get a chance to think before Damien tightly wrapped his arms around her.

“Oh god, thank you so much! I thought I was done for!” he gasped. Eileen shook her head and chuckled as she returned the embrace. She could feel him shaking, hear his faint sniffles. She regretted not arriving earlier, but little could be done about it now. There were more urgent matters to attend to at the moment.

“You’re just lucky I came across you in time. I was just looking for a young mercenary, slipped away while I was resting. Sounds like you might know where he’s gone.” She remarked. She tilted her head as Damien stepped back and took a deep breath, unable to look her in the eyes.

“Naib is in the Hunter’s Dream. That spirit, Wu Chang, attacked us earlier, so I stitched up his wounds.” Damien said. Eileen was silent, and for a moment he though he’d turn to ice under her gaze. She dipped her head before laughing and giving him a gentle shove.

“Well give me a warning next time! Kidnapping doesn’t look good on you, dearie.” She exclaimed. Damien groaned and looked away as Eileen ruffled his hair. “Come now, I know you can take a joke. Now why don’t we grab our little friend before those hunters come back.” She said. He nodded, a small smile forming under his mask. As he walked through the dissipating mist with the old hunter, he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d gotten himself into.


	4. Intimidation

When the Ripper and Wu Chang had set out earlier that day, the rest of the hunters could almost hear the foolish escapee kicking and screaming. The Gamekeeper and Soul Weaver had even placed bets on how long it would take for them to bring him back. The last thing they’d expected was for Jack and Xie Bi’an to return with bloodied, torn clothes and no mercenary in sight. Joseph glanced up from his book and leaned back in his chair.

“Goodness, you’re a sight for sore eyes!” The photographer said. He grinned smugly as Jack growled, the White Guard glaring daggers at him as well.

“Oh, you’re hilarious, Joseph! Do you have any idea what we’ve been through tonight?!” Xie scolded. Joseph responded with an innocent shrug. The White Guard groaned and switched to the Black, Fan Wujiu. “We could have had him, but a wretched little hunter got in the way! When one of the veterans came along, that was it!” he exclaimed. He stomped off to their room, leaving the rest of the hunters staring at the fuming Ripper. Jack rubbed the side of his head and sighed.

“Eileen the Crow’s reputation precedes her, so I at least had an idea of how to counter her. But that younger one is a tad unpredictable,” he said. “A fledgling to be sure, but a dangerous one. I’m going to need some more time to patch myself up and find a way to isolate him.” He walked down the same hallway as Wu Chang, causing the rest of the room to break into a chorus of murmurs and quiet arguments.

Joseph watched him leave, tapping his foot against the rug. It wasn’t often a hunter found their match! How intriguing! His eyes wandered as he thought, landing on an ajar door moments before it swiftly clicked shut. The photographer grinned and grabbed his sword. Things were getting more interesting by the second…

Martha swiftly retreated from the door, followed by the perfumer and seer. Of course they had to get spotted at the last second. What else did she expect from this damned place? She led the trio around the corner, well away from the hunters’ side of the manor. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the perfumer sporting an ugly frown.

“Oh, the nerve of that man! Thinking he can just run off and leave the rest of us in this cesspool!” Vera hissed, stomping her heel against the floor. Eli jumped, his faithful owl giving a startled hoot.

“Calm down, Vera! I’m sure it was a mistake!” he exclaimed, gently stroking the owl’s neck. She shot him a stern look, but before she could utter a word, Martha pointed her flare gun at them. Both survivors jumped, protectively holding their hands up. She slowly lowered the gun and gave a heavy sigh.

“Look, arguing is not going to bring Naib back. I know him well enough to know he’d never abandon us,” She said. “If the hunters find him, they could beat him within an inch of his life. One of us is going to have to head into Yharnam.” Sweat beaded on her forehead at the incredulous looks she received. The way Vera held her hands over her mouth, one would think she’d witnessed a murder. Martha shook her head and turned away.

Watching Martha march towards the main door, Eli knew she was serious. He wanted to protest, tell her she could be ripped apart as well. Yet the thought of his friend being lost in a sprawling, plagued city lingered unpleasantly at the back of his mind. He stood next to the coordinator and gazed up at the door. Did it always give this foreboding aura? Just as Martha stepped closer, a sword swept down in front of her.

“Where do you think YOU’RE going?” Joseph asked. The survivors backed away from him as he smirked down at them. Eli and Vera stopped a safe distance away, but Martha stood her ground. The mere sight of that condescending smile made her blood boil.

“Naib is still out there, and someone needs to get out there and find him. That someone won’t be any of you!,” she shouted, jabbing an accusatory finger at him. “We’ll be taking him back, and it won’t be in pieces!” Joseph wasn’t phased in the slightest, his smile growing at the coordinator’s defiance. He chuckled and playfully patted her on the head.

“You certainly seem sure of yourself. Do you know what will happen if you head out into that city?” he asked. Martha kept her glare fixed on Joseph as he strolled towards Vera. She whimpered and cowered away, only for him to lean in and grasp her shoulders. “You could be chopped up by angry mobs, driven to madness, or gobbled up by a slavering beast.” He said, snapping his teeth at Vera for emphasis. She gasped and swiftly backed further into the lobby.

“That’s what you think, you pompous, bloodthirsty bastard! I won’t let any hunter bring Naib in bleeding to death!” Martha shouted. As Joseph glanced back at her, she knew he could see her shivers, hear the faint tremble in her voice. She couldn’t even manage a growl when he stepped closer and pinched her cheek.

“Oh, don’t try to be tough! But please, do run out there if you don’t mind becoming a wall decoration.” He said, sneering as he waved a photograph at the survivors. With a jovial, if sinister, laugh, the hunter strolled down the hall to his side of the manor. Martha’s voice was gone, leaving her standing in tense silence alongside her fellow survivors.

“Don’t let him get to you. He’s all bark and no bite outside of the game,” Eli said. “At least, I hope that’s the case…” Martha glared at him, but her gaze quickly softened as she sat down and hid her face in her hands. The owl leapt from Eli’s shoulder and landed on hers, snuggling against her and softly hooting. She sighed and carefully stroked its chest feathers.

“Now they’re going to be expecting us to escape. With everything that’s happened, none of the others will be brave enough to help us. Our plan is dead and we haven’t even given it any thought.” She said.

“I’ll go.” A quiet voice called. Everyone turned to the source, finding the embalmer standing there. Aesop was always the most standoffish survivor, preferring to stay in his room, which doubled as a funeral parlor, rather than converse with the others. “I heard everything. If Naib is still alive and well, I suppose I could head out to Yharnam before any more hunters do.” He said.

“Are you sure, Aesop? If Joseph isn’t lying, you could be killed out there!” Eli exclaimed. Aesop’s presence brought an unease that he simply couldn’t explain. When he wasn’t taking part in the game, he never showed a sign of caring for the others. Why would he suddenly help them find Naib? The embalmer chuckled and waved a hand.

“Oh, Eli. You should know by now that I don’t fear death,” He replied. “It’d be best for us to make preparations for tonight. The sooner the better.” Tightly gripping the handle of his makeup kit, he walked down the hall leading to his room. Martha and Vera exchanged glances before jogging after him. Eli shook his head as his owl flew back and perched on his shoulder. He reluctantly followed his companions, attempting to push the lingering dread away…


	5. The Escape

Midnight had finally struck at the Manor. Martha, Aesop, Eli, and Vera were huddled near an ajar window, awaiting the return of Eli’s owl. Eli himself was completely still. No one dared to disturb him, knowing that he was telepathically scouting out the planned escape route. She finally flapped up with a soft hoot, perching comfortably on his arm. He turned to his fellow survivors and sighed.

“Looks like Soul Weaver is guarding the front door, while the Geisha is keeping an eye on the second floor.” He said. Martha huffed and crossed her arms. Leave it to Joseph to blab about their scheme to the other hunters. Still, Aesop’s parlor was on the first floor. Hopefully Michiko wouldn’t think to glance down at any point.

“You remember the plan, right Aesop?” Martha asked. Aesop nodded fervently. It was simple enough. He’d just have to jump out the window and run to a break in the fence, ducking for cover when necessary. There was a lack of reliable hiding spots, but hopefully his black uniform would help him blend into the dark.

Aesop carefully vaulted over the windowsill. Countless matches provided him with the experience to keep from alerting hunters. He ducked behind a small statue, briefly peeking around it for any sign of Michiko. There were no hunters in sight. He swallowed his growing dread and stepped out into the open. Just as he resumed his escape, a ghostly figure moved in the corner of his vision.

An earsplitting screech sounded through the air. The Geisha zipped towards him, brandishing her bladed fan. Aesop gasped and broke into a run, the blade missing the back of his head by an inch. She gained on him in no time at all, preparing a strong attack. Just as she lunged for the embalmer, a searing blast struck her. Michiko screamed, whipping around to face her assailant.

Martha stood there with her flare gun, glowering at the hunter. The Geisha lunged for her with a wild swing of her fan, but she dodged it with ease. Michiko swiftly hid behind her fan, continuing to pursue the troublesome survivor.

“Just run! I’ll hold her off!” the coordinator cried. Aesop managed a swift nod before resuming his escape. The break in the fence was straight ahead, he could make it! A thick, sticky substance suddenly enveloped him, slowing his pace. The Soul Weaver was after him now. Her wooden marionette arms reached for him, ready to snatch him and completely wrap him in webbing.

“What’s the hurry, Cutie Pie? Stay here forever!” she exclaimed. The embalmer’s heart pounded harder as he frantically tore a few silk strands away. She was gaining fast, reeling her bladed legs back. He braced himself for the incoming strike, only to hear a caw and the spider’s blade bouncing back.

Eli’s owl had taken the hit, forcing her to regain her strength for another hit. This gave Aesop just enough time to climb through the warped bars, shoving his way through the underbrush. A cry was heard as a bladed leg forced its way through. The hunter flailed her weapon about, but the embalmer was long gone.

Aesop fell to his knees, clutching his chest as he allowed his breathing to calm. God, why would he do this to himself? He sighed and ripped away the rest of the webs, shakily getting to his feet. It would take him a good while to reach Yharnam, then he’d need to spend a better part of the day sleeping to regain his strength. Of course, he would also need to avoid the beasts and any hunters who were sent after him.

Taking a deep breath, Aesop tightly gripped the handle of his makeup case. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Yharnam was a place of death, a concept he was well used to. Combine that with his experiences in the game, and his chances of getting killed or losing his sanity were fairly low. He managed a tiny smile as he walked down the path to the Cathedral Ward playing field. Yes, he could make the most out of this little situation…

Meanwhile, Eli and Vera watched Michiko drag off a squirming cocoon. They slunk away from the window, a heavy tension in the air. Their plan had worked, but at what cost? Martha was sure to be punished, and there was the chance Aesop could die out there. All they could do now was hope for the best.


	6. An Uneasy Reunion

After flipping through several books, Naib was already bored. A part of him was tempted to question what was taking Damien so long, but another part feared that he’d been taken down by the hunters. He grimaced as he placed down a copy of _How to Pick Up Fair Maidens_. Perhaps exploring would take his mind off things. He shook his head and walked towards a door to the side of the Workshop.

Stepping out of the side door, the mercenary was greeted by a soft gasp. Naib turned and found himself facing a tall woman in a delicate dress and a bonnet. Her skin was pale, almost like porcelain. He glanced at her fingers and frowned, finding that they were ball-jointed like a doll. Now that he thought about it, her gaze was rather blank as well. Just who, or what, was she?

“Who…are you? Are you a friend of the Good Hunter?” she asked. Her voice was soft as silk, almost instantly calming him. With a tilt of her head, the Doll carefully pinched the fabric of his cloak. She doesn’t seem dangerous, Naib thought to himself. Still, he wasn’t comfortable trusting her just yet. Hell, he had a hard time trusting some of the survivors back at the manor. What could come out of talking with this woman?

“Uh, my name is Naib. If you’re talking about Damien, then yes. He saved my life.” He said. The Doll gave a bright smile, yet the blank stare she continued to give him was off putting. It was almost like she was hiding something from him. Come to think of it, Damien hadn’t mentioned her at all…

“I would expect nothing less from my dear hunter. He is merciless in the hunt, but gentle as can be otherwise.” She said. After witnessing the fight with Wu Chang and having his gashes fixed, Naib wasn’t inclined to disagree. Before he could think of a response, she gently squeezed his cheek in one hand and stroked his hair with the other. “You’re so soft! Are you a doll too?” she asked.

Naib frowned as the Doll played with his hair. It was such a foreign feeling, different from being shot at or carried to a rocket chair. Even years after the war, he would often flinch when being touched. How far had he truly fallen since leaving the army? He gave a reluctant smile and gently pushed her arm away.

“Uh, something like that. I was just going to look around the Dream before Damien gets back.” Naib said. Just as he was about to step away, one of the frail, misshapen creatures from the lamp popped up in front of his boot. Naib yelped and fell on his rear, scooting back until his back was pressed against the Doll’s skirt. He trembled as they crawled closer, their spindly hands grabbing onto his legs. Yet the Doll merely giggled and patted his head.

“There is no need to fear the Messengers. They simply wish to aid the hunters who pass through the Dream.” The Doll said. One of the Messengers snuggled up against Naib’s hand like a puppy. He tentatively patted its delicate head, receiving a grateful purr in response. Most of the other Messengers retreated, allowing him to stand. He looked over his shoulder and gave a small smile to the Doll before walking towards a slightly overgrown side path.

The back garden was fairly empty, the only notable object being a slightly rotted stump filled with Messengers wearing tiny top hats. Naib was about to turn back before he noticed a wheelchair sitting near the fence. He crept closer and found an elderly man snoozing there. Occasionally he would give a soft murmur or whimper. Naib tilted his head and gently nudged his arm. The light touch nearly caused the man to leap out of his seat. He gasped and turned to face him, eyes switching from wild to puzzled almost instantly.

“Good Hunter? Is that you?,” he asked. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow after a moment. “Apparently not. Goodness, for a second I thought he’d mutated into a fuzzy little beast.” Naib grimaced and rubbed his arm. This must be Gehrman, he thought. The old man looked ready to pass out or perhaps break down into tears. He couldn’t begin to imagine the sorts of dreams he’d been having.

“Uh, sorry about barging in. A hunter tried to kill me, so Damien brought me here.” Naib said. It didn’t seem like the best idea to mention what kind of hunter had attacked him. He remembered how Damien had expressed concern at Gehrman being irritated with him. Yet the way the old man looked at him was gentle, fatherly even. He leaned back with a soft chuckle.

“No worries, son. As long as you don’t go around breaking everything, you’re welcome to use whatever you’d like.” He said. Naib couldn’t help but give a tiny smile. What had Damien been so worried about? Gehrman smirked and leaned closer. “Even the Doll, should it please you.” He whispered. Naib jerked away, his eyes wide and teeth grit.

“EW! What the hell, old man?!” Naib cried. Gehrman burst into laughter, nearly falling out of his wheelchair. The mercenary grimaced and backed away from him. Was that supposed to be some kind of joke?! Gehrman caught his breath and gave him a bright smile.

“I swear, that’s always what the mind jumps to! You should have seen the look on Damien’s face when I pulled that on him!” he said. Naib groaned as he walked back the way he came, making his way past a long row of tombstones. He glanced to the side, a birdbath crammed with Messengers catching his eye. Naib almost didn’t notice a figure approaching him.

Naib yelped as someone grabbed his shoulder. Thoughts racing, he slammed his elbow pad against the intruder’s stomach. Had one of the hunters found their way in? How was that possible?! The moment he turned to face his assailant, his stomach dropped. He already recognized that Yharnam hunter garb!

“There you are! Don’t scare me like that!” he cried. Damien laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had bent over, lightly cradling his stomach. Had he really hit him that hard? Naib sighed and crossed his arms. “You had me worried for a while. What took you so long?” he asked.

“Sorry about that. Wu Chang and the Ripper held me up.” Damien said. Naib’s skin crawled at the mere mention of the hunters. His unease didn’t go unnoticed, as the hunter comfortingly patted his shoulder and took his hand. “Don’t worry, a friend helped me fight them off. I’m afraid we’ll have to go back to the waking world, though.” He remarked.

Naib only looked down at his boots. He had a very good idea of who that friend was. He could almost hear the lecture he was about to receive. They stopped in front of a line of tombstones leading up the Workshop stairs, Messengers gathered at the bases.

Damien kneeled before the first tombstone. Once again he let the Messengers crawl onto his hand, contentedly nestling into his warmth. Within seconds he had faded away. Shivers crawled down Naib’s spine, but he had little choice but to follow him. He crouched down and let the Messengers take his hand. Their spindly fingers curled around his, looking at him expectantly.

“Can you take me where Damien is?” he asked. They moaned a little, but within moments the drowsiness from before hit. Naib groaned and nearly fell onto his face. His body faded away as his mind drifted into darkness.

Naib woke up with a gasp. He looked around and found that he was back in the Cathedral Ward, right next to the Messenger Lamp. Swiftly pulling his hood back over his head, he glanced up at Damien. The hunter nodded towards a door at the back of the chapel, jogging through it and down the stairs. He rushed after him, trying not to trip down the spiral staircase, and into a small library. A very familiar library, Naib thought with unease welling up in his gut.

Eileen was leaning against a bookcase with her arms crossed, her beak mask pointed in his direction. Naib forced a smile, giving her his most innocent look. She gave a grim chuckle and stood up straight, towering over him.

“Good to see you again. Seems my friend has been treating you well, little mercenary,” she said. “I must commend you for slipping away from me. Too bad you nearly got yourself killed afterwards.” The concealed annoyance in her tone caused him to furrow his brow. It was as if he didn’t know how dangerous Yharnam was!

“Look, I’ve been through enough games to know you couldn’t take two hunters alone!” he retorted. Eileen gave a low, disapproving hum. Naib could feel her gaze piercing into him through her eerie plague mask. He cowered back as she knelt to eye level.

“Don’t be snippy with me, Naib. I appreciate the concern, but that doesn’t mean you can run off behind my back. Even without those hunters, a beast could still eat you for supper!” she scolded. The mercenary averted his gaze, cowering away as if she were one of the Manor’s hunters. “I know you want to look out for me, but I need to do the same for you. Got that?” she said.

The mercenary nodded and meekly laid back on the cot Eileen had set down before. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so pathetic. Even when facing the most terrifying hunters, he fought to the bitter end! Then again, the Manor’s influence prevented the survivors from dying. If he were eaten by a beast or sliced up by the Ripper here, it would all be over.

“We’ll find a way to get you back to that Manor. But if you run away again, I’ll tie you down until we do,” She said. “I’ll be back in a spell.” Eileen lingered in the doorway before ascending the staircase. Damien casted Naib a mournful look before following her.

“Did you have to be so harsh with him?” he asked as they entered the chapel. She stopped dead in her tracks and crossed her arms. He backed off slightly as Eileen slowly turned to him. Yet instead of lecturing him as well, she tightly gripped his shoulder and sighed.

“I don’t want to be, but he’s as good as dead without us. He has no knowledge of Yharnam’s layout or how to fight the beasts. He doesn’t even have a weapon for Rom’s sake!,” she said. “I don’t want to do this, but it’s for his safety.” She pulled away and buried her masked face in her gloves. Damien could only give a reluctant nod. It felt wrong to keep Naib on a short leash, but what else could they do?

Naib listened to their conversation from a few feet away. He bowed his head and solemnly crept back down the stairs. Eileen certainly meant well, but that didn’t make the truth sting any less. He gulped down a lump in his throat as he scrubbed a hand across his eyes. He was more helpless out here than he was in the game! With a deep, shaky breath, Naib sat down on the cot, contemplating his future…


End file.
